You Haven't Seen the Last of Remus Lupin Revised
by Laureen Lycan
Summary: The good, IC version of my original. Remus meets up with Hermione after saying goodbye to Harry in PoA.*CHAPTER 4 UP*
1. Default Chapter

You Haven't Seen the Last of 

Remus Lupin 

_A/N: You know, it's surprising how many reviews a person gets when one states that they were going to take a story down.  _^_^_ No, I didn't do it purposely.  But, since people actually took the time to review, I have decided to re-write the story. The older one will be kept up until I catch up with the chapters.  Anyway, I couldn't let down all those other people who are Remus/Hermione fans.  Now, WARNING!  While the other story focused mainly on admiration, this one will delve a bit deeper than that.  Takes place after Remus and Harry say good-bye at the end of the third book._

_Disclaimer:  I own everyone in…! **a gang of Rowling-worshippers gang up on Laureen, threatening her with baseball bats*…Eh…Everything you see here belongs to J.K. Rowlings…  _

            Thunder crashed and rain pounded brutally against the castle walls, as if the school was suddenly being attacked by a mob of angry parents.  A fitting evening to turn away from the best job he had managed to land in a while, Remus thought even as he smiled bitterly out at the storm.

            He sighed and allowed himself to fall back against the statue of Boris the Bewildered, his suitcase dropped, abandoned, at his feet.  

            _Come on…_ an annoying little voice in the back of his head taunted.  _Did you really think you could keep as  great a job at this?  You?  A horrible, vicious creature like yourself?  Please…_

            Remus thought he heard a swish of robes behind him, but he only gritted his teeth and tried to block out the voice in his head.  

            He was mildly surprised.  He hadn't heard the voices in his head since before the term started.  _Must come with the stress,_ he mused to himself with some humor.  _Two-for-one deal…  Accumulate anxiety and gain voices in your head all for the price of one!_

Shaking his head, he picked up his bag and walked toward the doors of the Great Hall, out to where he assumed the carriage Dumbledore was providing awaited. 

            It hurt, yes. 

            Lord, how it hurt him to have to leave.  Because it wasn't only a great job he was leaving behind;  he was leaving behind security, sanctuary, a home, friends…

            He swallowed the knot rising in his throat and forced himself to walk faster toward the doors away from the new life he had somehow managed to scrape up for himself.

            _Walk faster, Lupin,_ he heard the voice telling him._ The sooner you get out the sooner you can forget all…_

"You're leaving," he heard suddenly and the voice died abruptly, fading away…

            He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the light, battered suitcase in his hand drop to the ground with a low "thud."

            He took a few calming breaths and flexed his fingers a bit to steady himself.

            He heard a small choking sound and immediately whirled around to face his speaker, a mixture of concern and carefully concealed sorrow in his still-amber, now-greying eyes.

            He picked up his suitcase and slowly walked over to a very sad-looking Hermione Granger.

            He stopped when he was about a foot in front of the girl and studied her, dropping his belongings.   As he looked at her, he suddenly thought she looked a bit too small for the school robes she was wearing.

            He bent down on one-knee so he was looking up at her and with a startled blink, he realized that two crystal tears were sliding down each of her cheeks.

            He gave her a small, gloomy smile and straightened up, gently placing a hand under her chin to tilt her head up at him.

            "I'm not leaving forever, you know," he said softly, taking a midnight blue handkerchief from his robe pocket and using it to wipe the tears off her face gently, almost painstakingly, with his free hand.  

            He withdrew the handkerchief when she stiffled a short sob and shook his head, putting it away.

            He removed his remaining hand from under her chin and let it linger only long enough to tap the tip of her nose affectionately.

            "You'll see me again."

            He smiled at her, suddenly very grateful that he was able to keep a tremor from his voice.  Hermione, however, wasn't that talented.

            "I don't want you to go," her voice broke off, fresh tears raining in behind the old puddle.  "You shouldn't have to go."  

            An odd look flashed in his eyes and she could have sworn that the amber in them suddenly pushed back the grey.  But it was gone in a moment and she briefly wondered if she had imagined it.

            Remus sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair.

            "It doesn't matter, Ms. Granger," he started, ignoring her wince as he addressed her so formally.

            He smiled wryly.  

            "I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you to have an old, smelly werewolf as a professor."

            "You're not old and you're not smelly, Remus!" Hermione snapped, surprising him both by the use of her tone and his name.

            "And you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!"

            He leaned back from her a bit.  _Is that a knife I felt stab my  insides?_

"You've been deprived, child," he said closedly, surprising even himself with his tone.

            She winced at his cold remark and she couldn't help two more tears running down her face.

            Tears that weren't lost on him.                   

            He widened his eyes at her reaction and a pang of guilt wrenched his heart.

He suddenly took her by the shoulders, bending down so he was at eye level with her.

            "Oh, gods, Hermione, I didn't mean that," he said, his guilt flashing in his eyes.

            She looked away from him, but he gently turned her face back toward him.

            "I'm sorry," he whispered.

            _For more than you could possibly imagine._

She turned her cinnaminy eyes back to him and he withdrew slightly from the raw passions he saw in them.

            She let out a small cry and flung her arms around his shoulders.

            Remus flinched and kept himself from wrapping his arms around her tightly, instead only embracing her in a loose hug.

            He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears beginning to well up in his eyes to go away.   

            _Oh, no, no, no!_ he thought wildly.  _Don't do this to her!  Don't do this to yourself!  You had already gotten way too comfortable with her calling her by her first name in the Shrieking Shack!  You're lucky no one started to catch on!  _

_            He let go of her at that moment and stood up abruptly, bringing his suitcase up with him with his left hand._

            _Just go, Lupin.  Turn around and just walk out that door! _

_            The voice had returned.  _

_            But something about her eyes left him standing there dumbly.    _

            "…Please don't go…" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

            _Oh, God…the knife just twisted itself deeper…he mused._

_            He shut his eyes and prepared himself to turn and run when he was suddenly aware of a weight in his pocket._

            Slipping his hand in, he was suddenly struck with a stroke of brilliance.

            He took out a fine platinum chain out of his pocket and held it out.        

            The chain flowed through his fingers until it dangled from his hand.

            At the end hung a small crystal pendant and when Hermione looked closely, she thought she could see a pair of amber eyes staring at her from the depths of the tear-shaped drop.

            She looked up at him questioningly and he smiled weakly at her.

            He set his suitcase down and, with trembling hands, lifted up her hair and clipped it around her neck.

            He picked up his suitcase as she was studying it carefully and when she looked up, she was looking into his amber eyes.    

            He turned, and she felt a rise of panic in her throat.

She blinked when he suddenly paused and turned around again to face her.

            He saw a ray of hope in her eyes and he allowed himself to gently brush her cheek with his hand.  

            "I'll be back for this," he whispered, gesturing toward the pendant.

            Then he turned and walked out of the Great Hall into the storm.  

            Into the storm and out of her life.

 As soon as he was out the door, Hermione collapsed into a fit of sobs and sunk down on her knees to the floor.

            But as the doors closed on Remus, she heard a swish of robes and, looking down, she saw a pair of black shoes stop next to her.

            Choking back her sobs, Hermione raised her gaze to her companion and took his hand as he offered it to her.

 Pulling her up, Percy looked at Hermione, gazing at her with obvious compassion behind his lenses.

She started opening her mouth to question how long he had been standing there, but her emotions betrayed her and instead of an inquisition, a sob erupted from her mouth and she didn't fight when Percy gently wrapped her in a comforting embrace and held her as she let forth all the tears she had been restraining.

_A/N: Okay, how's that for a revised chapter?  Yea or nay?   Excuse the mistakes, I have no beta reader and I'm too eager to post this up to wait a while before editing.  (Bad form, I know.)  _


	2. The Return

The Return

A/N:  Okay, okay, I know I took long to get this chapter up. But I think the next chapter will come out much sooner.  **Coughs** Of course, the amount of time might be cut down if the number of reviews don't drop…?  

            Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped into the Great Hall, each taking in the scent of their old, beloved school.

           "It feels so good to be back," sighed Harry, blinking as he looked up at the enchanted ceiling.  It was a beautiful night.  The stars were shinning brightly, dressed in the occasional wisp of silver cloud.  Harry had replaced his glasses with contacts at the end of the previous year, after driving Voldemort into submission once again.  During the battle, he had gotten his glasses knocked off his face, hindering him temporarily.  It was then that he decided he would get contacts to avoid that happening again.

           It was their seventh and final year at Hogwarts and after facing many obstacles dealing with Lord Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, and various dark creatures that included a nasty pack of vampires only their previous year, they had all remained best friends and had gotten much closer despite their frequent arguments and quarrels.

            Ron grinned at Harry. "Still up for our bet?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. At the end of last year, Harry and Ron made a bet to see whom Lavender Brown would date first. Not that they weren't each excellent choices – Ron was the captain of the Quidditch team, which in itself, was a big plus. He played as Gryffindor's Keeper. Harry was still the team's Seeker and, well…let's face it.  He was the Boy-Who-Lived and that was a plus in itself.

            "You know it!" grinned Harry and he turned and scanned the room in search of the interest of his raging hormones. Ron, however, spotted her first and rushed after her, Harry closely on his tail.

"Boys," Hermione muttered and made her way over to the Gryffindor table to wait for the Sorting.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk, Ron and Harry sitting on either side of her.  With some disinterest, they watched Professor McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on its customary stool in the middle of the decorated Hall. 

            Somewhere to the right of her, the staff lined into the room and seated themselves upon their table; but she was too busy listening to the Sorting Hat's yearly ballad to pay any heed to it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            "Lillot, Charles," read Professor McGonagall before Hermione grew weary of watching both the Sorting and Ron and Harry's duel with forks they had apparently nicked from the train.

            With a small smile, she suddenly remembered Percy's letter that was delivered to her just before she got aboard the train.  

            She pulled the letter out of her robe pocket and unfolded it carefully.

            There, in Percy's neat scrawl, read:

_Dear Hermione:_

            I'm sorry I couldn't write sooner – it's been really busy up at the ministry.  That insufferable git, Fudge, has finally admitted that Voldemort has risen again, and to say that chaos has broken loose in the Ministry would be an understatement.  Mr. Crouch was trying to tell him all along, of course, but we all know how obstinately blind Fudge can be.  

_            So how was your summer?  I realize that we haven't been seeing each other as much as I would have liked to over this past year.  There was simply no way we could have company over at the Bureau this holiday.  _

_            Hermione, I've just about enough money now to buy a small two-bedroom flat in London.  I know these past two years for us haven't been great, and I know I haven't exactly been the best boyfriend in Britain.  I still want to apologize over that whole incident with Penelope last summer –_

            Here, Hermione paused and frowned.

            Yes…Penelope wasn't keen on Percy dating anyone after he broke up with her.  She apparently wouldn't accept it, even though she had been cheating on him for the last year of their relationship.  Come to think of it, things somewhat started going downhill  in Percy and Hermione's relationship from when Penelope attacked her in the Leaky Cauldron.

            Sighing to herself, she continued reading.

            _Hermione – I want you to know that you mean a lot to me.  I know that I don't use the term, "love" very much…  But I do.  Love you, that is.  And since now I have enough money to buy a place of my own, and since you're graduating this year, there's something I wanted to ask –_

            She didn't get any farther than that.  

            Feeling eyes on her, she stuffed the letter and envelope back into her robes and slowly turned around toward her onlooker's gaze.

            The sight her eyes met made her lungs inhale sharply, her face flush, and the adrenaline pound through her veins.

            There, sitting in between Professors Sinistra and Flitwick was Remus Lupin, who quickly averted his eyes and engaged his female colleague in conversation.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that the clashing of metal had stopped, but she still started when Ron tapped her on the shoulder.  

            "Hermione…Hermione, are you alright?" 

            Glancing toward Harry, she noticed that he, too, had been watching her with some concern. 

Clearing her throat, she tore her eyes away from the staff and murmured, "Just fine…Will you excuse me?" Without waiting for an answer, she quietly slipped out from the table and inconspicuously made her way out and toward the Gryffindor Common room.

            "Nellford, Sarah…." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            She didn't know how long she was curled up on the crimson sofa.  Not long, she supposed.  The others were apparently still at the Feast.  

            Her robes were puddled down by the sofa next to her sneakers, having been abandoned almost without thought.  She lay quietly on the couch in jeans and a white blouse, staring into the flickering flames of the fire, letting her thoughts roam.

            "He's back," she whispered quietly and buried her face into the plush sofa, squeezing her eyes shut.

            Her hand had unconsciously traveled to the front of her shirt and she was clasping something behind the material.

            "He told me he'd come back," she opened her eyes, staring into the comforting embrace of crimson.  "I never imagined he'd be telling the truth…"

            She realized that there were several wet droplets on the arm of the couch and she sniffled softly, sitting up on the couch, her legs pulled up.

            Turning back to face the fire, she gasped.

            Remus Lupin was kneeling about a foot in front of her, looking at her with genuine concern.  She never even heard him enter.    

            She stared at him, her eyes still wet and, seeing she was alright, Remus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

            _Red_, she noticed.  _I wonder when he bought a new one…_

Seeing as she didn't take it, he put the handkerchief back in his pocket.  

            She noticed he wasn't wearing his robes, and she swept her eyes around the room, spotting them on the couch perpendicular to her own.  She wondered just how long he'd been kneeling in front of her while she was lost in her thoughts.

            Turning back to him, she regarded him with some interest.  She had never seen him in ordinary clothes before.  He wore black trousers and a brown, buttoned up shirt, just unbuttoned at the collar.  

            _Hmm…brings out his eyes and hair…_she thought, embarrassed suddenly upon realizing it.

            _Wait a minute…_  His hair?!

            Raising her eyes, she noticed that there was little, if any, grey in his locks and she wondered if this was simply lack of stress, or if he had dyed it to present himself better.  His skin was also a healthier color than it had been her third year.  She couldn't tell in the firelight, but it looked as though he had developed a light tan.  He had gained some weight, too, which was good, because he was far to thin before.  And his clothes – while they were nothing fancy, surely they wouldn't belong to someone who had been unemployed for long.  

            But there was something else there, too...something about his face.  It held something more in it – more life, she supposed.

           They each stood and regarded one another, taking each other in.  Remus noted that she had found a way to tame her hair and that, he regarded this with some embarrassment, she no longer had the body of a thirteen year old.

            "You're looking better, Professor," Hermione whispered.

            "Thank you, Miss Granger," he responded in a voice from deep in his throat.

            There was a strange silence in which they both stared into the other's eyes.                

            Finally, after a few agonizingly long moments, Remus murmured, "I told you I'd come back."

            "Yes…you did."


	3. Whispered Confessions

Whispered Confessions

A/N:  I'm so, SO sorry this took so long – my computer crashed and I lost the chapter that I had.  This is very short, (I apologize once again) but I thought I should go ahead and post what I had.  If I did not e-mail you with the update, and you would like to keep notified of this story, please leave your e-mail address along with any constructive criticism you have.  (Flames will be used to heat the fire of Remus' Wolfsbane Potion.)  

There was a long moment of silence.  Hermione broke his gaze and became suddenly interested in Professor Lupin's shoes.  

            _Black shoes,_ she thought.  _Black shoes with black trousers and a brown shirt._  _Interesting…  I'd have thought he'd wear brown with that._  

            As she studied his feet, she found they were a nice size.  About a nine and a half, she figured.*  _Not big and bulky , but not small either…and you know what they say about the size of a man's feet_.  She suddenly blinked and boarded herself off of this train of thought.

            She forced herself to look up and she found with some surprise that he had been watching her as if his gaze had never left her.

            Their eyes met and Remus placed his hands in his pockets.  "Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked softly.

            She stared into his clear, greying amber eyes for a long while.  _Pretty eyes…he has pretty eyes,_ she observed sadly even as her own welled up with tears.  "Why did you leave?" she whispered.  

            Remus opened his mouth and began answering automatically when she cut him off, her voice drowning his out.  "Why did you leave and didn't even let me…or Harry, or Ron…know where you went or what had happened to you?"  She vaguely realized that she was sounding hysterical, but it didn't seem to matter at the moment.   Nor did it seem to matter that she had stood up while asking him the question and that her fingers were twitching as if ready to shake the answer out of him if need be.       

            He blinked.  "Hermione," he began.  "You were a thirteen year old…my student."  His voice broke and he shook his head.  "I didn't need to be bothering you with the problems of a middle-aged werewolf," he muttered.

            Her hands trembled down at her sides.  "You were more than that to me," her voice sounding as the wind often does when it blows though the leaves of trees.

            Pale amber eyes stared at her.  "Eh…excuse me, I don't think I caught that," he managed to stammer out.

            _Kiss him_…  rang an annoying little voice in her head. _Kiss him and show him_…her instincts told her once again.

            _I can't!!  _She thought angrily.

            Professor Lupin was still looking down expectantly at her.

            "I," she started.  

            He waited patiently for her to finish her sentence, fixing her with his bright and intense gaze.

            She took a deep breath and straightened her posture.  "…I…"

            He started taking a step toward her, a genuine look of concern on his face.

            She shut her eyes.  "I have to go now," she whispered and fled from the common room.  

            Upon reaching the girls' dormitories, she shut the door behind her and leaned back heavily against it.

            She closed her eyes.  "I love you…"

_*  A nine and a half shoe size in Britian is equal to a ten in the U.S.  Er…I'm not sure if Canadians use the same shoe size we do or not._


	4. Sleeping In

Sleeping In  
  
  
  
Remus Lupin awoke from his chambers by a loud knock at his door. Growling into his pillow, he rolled over and pulled his soft, midnight blue comforter over his head. Just as he was slipping back into the blissful embrace of slumber, there was another pound on his door, this time accompanied by a female voice. "Remus.?" came a smooth tone from the door. Then a little sharper, "Remus!! What are you doing? You're going to be late for your first class!" This time, his eyes flew open and he rolled over to look at his watch on the nightstand. 8:43 a.m. He cursed and shot up, trying to roll off the bed and onto his feet. That didn't work out so well. He had gotten tangled up in his sheets sometime during his snoozing and he fell to the carpeted floor with a "thump." A loud, "BANG!" was heard and Sylvia Sinistra came dashing into the room, looking quite alarmed, her raven-colored hair flying behind her plum robes. "Remus?!" she looked around, finally spotting him on the ground clad in green and white plaid boxers, a white undershirt and a sheet. Remus groaned into the carpet. This was going to be a long day.  
  
  
  
Remus unlocked the door to his classroom and relieved Sylvia of the books, pieces of parchment and quills that she had been holding for him. His younger colleague laughed. "You're just lucky I had to get up early this morning to keep up the chartings on Luna," she smiled. "I never have any classes this early on a Monday, so I usually sleep in." He dropped his materials on his desk and looked up to grin at his younger colleague. "So I owe my thanks to the moon, eh?" he smirked. "My, how things change." She gave him an odd smile and looked at him for a long time. "Yes, they do." He raised his eyebrows at her in a bit of surprise. Just then, the students started piling in behind Sylvia and she said good-bye and departed. He sat down behind his desk and began organizing his papers while the students filed in behind him. A quiet figure rushed by his desk and quickly slunk into a seat. He glanced up from his desk, but found that he couldn't tell which student it had been. His eyes swept the class and he paused for a split second on a figure in the back joking and laughing with a tall red-haired boy and a shorter green-eyed one.  
  
Torture. Bitter-sweet torture.  
  
She watched him lecture the class on the Succubus. Her hand, almost out of it's own accord, took notes naturally. But that didn't stop her from admiring him.  
  
He stopped, at the end of one major point, and he allowed his eyes to survey the class. His eyes stopped when they locked on hers, and she felt a sense of dread, recalling yesterday's events.but then, he smiled at her. And he moved on with the lecture. She shut her eyes momentarily. Did he know what he could do with that one smile? She didn't think he did. Otherwise, she doubted he would be giving it out as freely. She looked up as the bell rang, and slowly collected her things.  
  
  
  
*~*Later that Night*~*  
  
She sobbed into her pillow, illuminated by the moonlight. Why him? Hermione wondered. Why oh, why, did it have to be him? Her pillow swallowed her cries, letting no sound escape it's soft embrace. It didn't hit her often, the depression. It probably struck her because she had her first class with him today. Either way, it didn't matter. It had hit her and there was nothing she could do anymore about it. Oh, how she hated it. Angrily, she pounded a fist against the mattress, the soft blankets trapping the sound. There was no use in letting the other girls know. She cried silently, angry tears streaming down her face. He would never even look twice at her. To him, all she was a child. It didn't matter if she was his friend; any form of romance between them was forbidden, and always would be. Her love for him stained the pillow with tears, much as it had stained her soul with grief. She loved him - how good it had felt when she had finally brought herself to admit it. She had tried to deny it in her third year; tried to make her believe that it was simply a crush. She had been miserable. A nervous wreck, even. Combine that with all the torment Harry and Ron had put her through, and .well, she didn't really want to think about that. She turned her head, the tears forming a river, its mouth ending in a damp spot on the crimson pillowcase. How does it feel a little voice in her head taunted. How does it feel knowing that the one man you really love will never, ever, feel anything towards you? A sob choked in her throat. It just wasn't fair! He would never know how she felt about him. How could he know? And yet, how could he not? How can he not notice her barely restrained love for him shining out of her eyes whenever she looked upon him? How could he not sense how she longed to hold him, cradle him against her, pouring out her true emotions toward him? Fate was cruel. So very, very cruel. She sniffed softly and turned her head, the river of tears slowly subsiding. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, allowing her tears to carry her into a deep sleep. Outside her room, a feminine figure paused, fist raised as if debating whether or not to knock. Shaking her head, she lowered her hand and strode past the Head Girl's room.  
  
A/N: I know, it's short, but I realize I haven't posted in ages, and I wanted to post what I had so far. 


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